It's Time to Begin
by sourulfur
Summary: Stiles and Jackson were in the same grade, in the same class since kindergarten. They are not friends, they never really get along. When Stiles is assigned as Jackson's tutor, things will change. Whether the change is for better or worse has not been decided yet. AU.
1. Introduction -

The halls were busy, and noisy, like they usually were after the first bell rang, letting the students know that it was time to head to the first class of the day. Some of the students loitered around a little, knowing they had at least five minutes until the tardy bell rang. One of those students was Jackson Whittemore; popular, good looking, captain of the lacrosse team. He was one of those guys that seemed to always get just what he wanted. The guy even had decent grades, for the most part. There were still a few classes he struggled with, but he would not admit _that_ to anyone. It broke the facade of being perfect that he had. He was rich, never got into trouble, was dating the hottest girl in school. Jackson Whittemore had it all.

He groaned when his best friend, Danny, pointed out that they would be late if they did not go to class right then, and they made their way to the mythology classroom. Not surprisingly, the front seat as near the middle of the room as he could get, sat Stiles Stilinski. Now, Stiles was not the kid's first name; nobody knew what it _really_ was. From everyone's understanding, his one friend (and best friend) did not even know what it was. Stiles was smart, got straight A's without even trying. He always seemed to have a new, ridiculously large book from the library to pour through in his free time. There was also a composition notebook and a sketchbook stacked underneath the book of the moment that he would randomly grab to mess with when he felt the need. He wore glasses when he couldn't be bothered with contacts, and almost always seemed to wear clothes that were a size too big. He was poor, and had only his father after his mother's death when he was younger. The teen was decent looking, but was so..._ Stiles_ that it did not really benefit him any.

The kid was loud and annoying, never knowing when to shut up or sit still. He was basically a bench-warmer on the lacrosse team, and Jackson practically sneered at the sight of the guy alone. Jackson was not sure why he disliked Stiles as much as he did; it was not like the other guy had _done_ anything to merit it. Still, Jackson felt an uneasy feeling that he tied with dislike and often picked on the overly-energetic teen.

"Settle down, class," said Ms. Dena, the mythology teacher, as she opened her gradebook to quickly take attendance, able to just glance over the faces to know who was missing. It was a perk of being in a small school, unless you were trying to skip. Then your parents would know before you even got home. "Alright. I've got last week's tests graded. So, while I'm handing those out, why don't you lot read the chapter I know you didn't read over the weekend, like you were _supposed_ to."

Everyone in the class, except for Stiles, groaned as they pulled out their book on mythological creatures. Stiles just pulled out his sketchbook and doodled instead. _He_ had done the reading, as he said softly to his best friend, Scott. Jackson's focus was on the papers that the teacher sat in front of him instead of the reading. He turned it over enough to see the big, red "F" scribbled at the top along with the "see me after class" note that Ms. Dena had left. "Fuck," sighed Jackson, not loud enough for anyone to hear as he sank down in his seat a little.

Once class was over, the students gathered their things and left the classroom, Stiles grinning with a "Thanks!" at the compliment on the perfect score he had gotten on the test from Ms. Dena. Jackson stayed in his seat, though, having told Danny to go on to English without him. The lacrosse star, picked up his bag and test before going up to his teacher's desk as he said, "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," replied Dena with a nod, smiling softly at him. "You're a bright kid, Jackson, and I know how important good grades are for you, being in lacrosse. You're lacking this semester, here and in English. So, Mrs. Barb and I were talking, and we believe it may benefit you to have a tutor in these area. It would just be a few nights a week, and if you agree to go to every session, the coach won't have to bench you for your grades."

Jackson sighed heavily. A tutor? He needed a tutor? It was ridiculous. He was _Jackson Whittemore_, for crying out loud! He wanted to throw a fit, to throw money around, threaten to tell his parents, but instead, he simply agreed and went along his way as the students for Dena's next class made their way in. A tutor was the last thing on earth he wanted to deal with. Maybe he could intimidate whichever nerdy kid they got to do it into letting him skip out without telling on him.

However, that idea was quickly slashed to pieces when Jackson found out that none other than Stiles Stilinski was going to be his tutor. Great. Just what he needed. Jackson sighed heavily and dropped into the chair across from Stiles in the library. "If you tell anyone you're tutoring me, I'll strangle you," Jackson grumbled, earning himself an eyebrow lift and an amused smirk.

"You're going to have to try harder than that to intimidate me, Jackson," Stiles replied, opening his English textbook to the page they were on in class. Really, though, with the people Stiles generally hung out with, Jackson was anything but intimidating. "But, I won't tell anyone. It's not like I really want to explain why I'm spending my time with Mr. Popular Asshole himself."

"Hey!"

Jackson glared at Stiles, the younger teen just blinking slowly as if he could not figure out what he had said wrong. Jackson was an asshole, and Stiles had no problems letting the guy know it. It had always been that way, though Stiles almost thought there was a time in which they were _almost_ friends. Jackson had just figured out that he was adopted, and Stiles' mother had died. They had spent some time talking outside the school counselor's office; but, then, once they were in front of people once again, Stiles was the loner nerdy kid that Jackson wanted nothing to do with once again. "Let's just get started, yeah? I do have other places to be," Stiles stated.

He scowled when Jackson snorted a little in response. "You have places to be? Like where? A _Star Trek _convention?"

"There's nothing wrong with _Star Trek_ conventions, but no," replied Stiles, shrugging off the insult that the statement had been designated for. "Some of us actually have jobs to get to."

Stiles had been working part time at the coffee shop in town, making some extra cash to help his dad out around the house, and to work on his jeep with. He was also saving up for college. He knew his dad had a savings set aside for him, but even with that, he would have to take out some loans if he did not get a lot of scholarships, not that anyone doubted Stiles would get every one he applied for. He was first in line for class valedictorian, much to Lydia's dismay, and from what Jackson understood, they had Stiles' IQ tested, and it was really high. It would probably be a bit intimidating if that information did not describe the pale, gangly kid sitting in front of him.

"Good luck at the game tomorrow," Stiles said when they had finished and were gathering their things, pausing to scratch his face just under his glasses before pulling his bag up onto his shoulder with a wave.

Jackson just stared at Stiles as the other teen left the library. It was the oddest tutoring session that Jackson had ever had. Well, it was the only tutoring session. It was still more odd than he had ever pictured. There were very little insults, but they did not talk about anything beyond the coursework after Stiles' information about having a job. It was formal and stiff, and not something Jackson expected from Stiles. Then again, he and Stiles were not friends, so there would be a difference between his studying with Scott and their tutoring session. A part of him was a bit disappointed about that; but, he shoved that feeling aside and blamed it on lack of sleep before getting up and leaving to find Danny.

It did not occur to Jackson that Stiles wished him luck on the game that the other teen would be at, as if he _wouldn't_ be there until he climbed into his bed that night. However, Jackson shrugged it aside, not thinking anything of it.

* * *

Stiles was not at school the next day, or the day after that. He was not there the entire rest of the week. It took a few days before anyone else seemed to notice, but Jackson had noticed that first day. Scott seemed more subdued than normal, and Allison kept shooting him worried glances when they could not be tangled up in one another. Jackson really did not get what Allison saw in Scott; but, that was something else entirely.

It was not until Monday that Stiles returned to school. He looked as if he had not slept much, if at all, in the time that he had been gone. Jackson almost did not see him until he heard Scott make a sound similar to that of a wounded puppy before rushing over to hug Stiles, who hugged his best friend tightly while insisting that he was okay. It was not until they were all in their first class that Jackson realized the previous week had been the anniversary of his mother's death, something that never seemed to not effect Stiles and the sheriff.

Still, Stiles answered any questions that he was asked in the classroom, having kept up on his homework and reading. He did not want to fall behind. Plus, having his homework made staying at home easier. It gave him something to focus on. He mostly avoided school to avoid those looks of pity that he always got around that time, plus on the actual day of his mother's death, he was just as much of a wreck as his dad was.

After classes that day, Stiles and Jackson met up in the library for another study session. It was a lot quieter than the last one, and it unnerved Jackson a bit. Stiles was not a quiet person. Yet, that day, he did not have much to say. They soon parted ways, and Jackson focused on the party that evening and how great Lydia was going to work. He almost found himself wondering what Stiles was doing a few times, but scowled and pushed all that crap aside. Like he gave a crap about the class nerd.


	2. Chapter One -

_**Thank you everyone who read and/or reviewed the first chapter! Here we go with the next part. :)**_

* * *

"No, that's not right," Stiles mumbled to himself, erasing his homework answer before rereading the question, not noticing his dad coming into the room.

"Hey, there, sport," the man said, causing the teen to jump before laughing with relief when he realized it was just his dad. "Sorry. Whatcha doing here? Isn't there some kind of party tonight?"

Of course, the town sheriff would know all about the totally illegal party being held. Stiles rolled his shoulder in a shrug and gestured to his homework. "I'd rather do this than go to that stupid party." The truth of the matter was that nobody even pretended to offer Stiles an invitation, not even Scott. Scott was there with Allison, but that was to be expected. Everybody loved Scott, even if he was a bit of an idiot. Maybe that was why they loved him. Stiles had no idea. He just knew that his best friend was more popular than he was. Scott rarely went out without Stiles unless it was a date, so he did not mind at all that Scott had not tried to invite him. He had homework, anyway.

After Stiles finished his homework, he and his dad sat in the living room, watching some mindless comedy movie on one of the hundreds of channels their satellite television gave them, just enjoying each others' company. It was definitely better than going to some stupid party, watching people he did not care about getting drunk to the point of reckless behavior. Stiles felt happy as he sat there, nursing his bottle of soda while his father had water. It was quiet, but nice.

* * *

The next day, at school before the bell rang announcing the start of classes, Jackson leaned against his locker as he talked to Danny, his arm draped around Lydia's shoulders, like usual. He was not really paying attention to the endless chatter of the cheerleaders and Lydia around him. It was not uncommon for him to tune out the conversations, and everyone basically expected it of him. That day, he was busy watching a few of the football players (ha! football), trying to be all intimidating toward some younger student he really did not know. The student just rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Jackson frowned faintly as the two jocks turned their attention to the next student passing them, who just happened to be Stiles, and they shoved him into a locker, making him run face first into them. Quite a few of the people in his little group were laughing, but Lydia seemed vaguely concerned, and Jackson did nothing but watch as Isaac Lahey seemingly came out of nowhere, telling them to back off before that new girl, Erica something-or-other checked on Stiles. The three of them talked inaudibly, Stiles grinning goofily and making a joke as he and Isaac started toward the bathroom so he could get some tissues for his nose. Jackson noticed that Issac, and Erica, were a bit more touchy with Stiles than most people would be. Their hands lingered on his back, and Erica seemed reluctant to let him go when the two boys went into the guys' restroom.

Erica told Scott what had happened, and Scott's face showed his obvious anger before he stalked into the bathroom, soon followed by that weird kid, Boyd. Erica looked dejected, leaning against the wall across from the bathroom; but, it only lasted a few minutes when Stiles and the others returned. Scott, Isaac, and Boyd all had a hand on Stiles in some way. They were an oddly touchy group. Jackson shrugged it off and walked Lydia to her class as the bell rang before going to his own, where Stiles was already writing in his notebook once he had taken his own seat. There were a few drops of blood on the front of Stiles' shirt, and Scott kept sending him worried glances; but, other than that, the rest of the day was really normal. Jackson was not overly fond of the blood on Stiles' shirt, and he found his eyes drifting to it from time to time; but, he told himself it was because the red stood out terribly against that tacky yellow t-shirt he wore.

After school that day, Jackson and Stiles met up for another tutoring session. That time, they were working on algebra, because Jackson had been struggling over the previous few tests. He had not been studying as much as he should have, putting more time in practicing for lacrosse. Once again, Jackson found his gaze on the blood stains on the front of Stiles' shirt. He grimaced a little, focusing on his book once again as he said, "Don't you own any other shirts, Stilinski?"

"Well, considering the vast number of t-shirts it has been said that I have, I would assume the correct answer to this random question would be 'yes'," replied Stiles, lifting an eyebrow slightly as he grabbed his bottle of water. "Why?"

"You've got blood on your shirt and you look ridiculous."

Stiles glanced down at his shirt and made a soft noise of irritation. "That's why they kept looking at me funny! Those damn..." Stiles continued to mutter to himself, glaring over toward his backpack, which held his phone, as he mentally promised to hit Boyd or one of the others when he saw them next. If they weren't all tense and angry, that was. The last thing he wanted was to be the reason they wolfed out at school. That would not be good. It took a long few moments, but Stiles finally realized that Jackson was looking at him funny, and he pushed his glasses back up his nose as he said, "What?"

"Nothing," mumbled the popular teen in response, shaking his head a little, focusing on his homework once again.

They spent the rest of the time in relative silence, except for when Stiles criticized Jackson's English paper, telling him everything was wrong. It was how they ended the tutoring session, and Jackson ended up going home mad. It was not until he got home and he reread the purple ink of Stiles' suggestions and corrections that he realized the truth in Stiles' statement. The other teen had only been trying to help, and Jackson, like always, had been an asshole in response. "Ma?" he called to the empty house, hoping it was not as empty as it seemed.

The only sound he heard in reply was of the dogs in one of the rooms. Jackson sighed and went up to his room so he could shower and settle in to watch some action flick on the television, ignoring Lydia's texts and wishing for the year to be over so he could leave that ridiculous little town. His mind, for some reason beyond him, kept flicking back to Stiles, and how pale he had been all day after having a bloody nose. He, himself, had been known to pick on the teen and make his life difficult; but, Jackson had never _hit_ the guy. That was just... Well, he had never done anything to deserve that one.

Jackson groaned and paused the movie, pushing himself up off his bed to go downstairs, where he reheated himself some pizza and grabbed one of his dad's beers out of the fridge. He then returned to his room. He did not want to _think_ about anything anymore. Explosions, car chases, and hot girls. That was what he wanted to focus on.

* * *

Stiles was not at school again the next day. Nobody seemed to notice, except Jackson. For that matter, Scott was not at school. Neither was Allison. Jackson's brow furrowed a little as he took his seat in mythology, glancing around a little. It was weird to not see Stiles in his ridiculous, red hoodie while goofing off with Scott. That was normal. That was routine. This... this was not. This had Jackson on edge.

It was after lunch when Jackson finally saw Stiles filter in with the rest of the crowd. His lip was busted, face bruised, and he seemed to limp a little. The teen was quiet for the first time in _forever_, and he was flanked by Isaac and Boyd. The later two seemed to be tense, as if waiting for someone to jump out and try to hurt Stiles. From the way that Stiles jumped when someone slammed a locker near-by, maybe that was _exactly_ what they were waiting for.

Jackson wanted to ask, wanted to _know_ what was going on. He did not like not knowing. He did not like being on the outside. That was the best thing about Beacon Hills. Everybody knew everything about everyone. Stiles seemed to escape that radar, however, and that had Jackson's nerves on end. He needed to figure out what it was that he was missing. That would be difficult with Lahey following Stiles around the school like a lost puppy.

Surprisingly, Stiles was alone at their tutoring session that evening. Jackson wanted to ask; but, he didn't. Instead, he focused on his work, ignoring the smug look on Stiles' bruised face when the other teen realized that Jackson had made his corrections on the English paper. "What happened to your face, Stilinski?" Jackson finally grunted out near the end of their session.

"Looks more hideous than normal, I know," replied Stiles with a shrug, avoiding answering the question with a joke.

"You're not hideous."

Jackson's simple expression of... something that Stiles could not name had the younger teen sitting there with a confused expression. Had the hottest guy in school really just complimented him offhandedly? Jackson looked unimpressed at the confused look on the other teen's face, and he rolled his eyes before saying, "C'mon, Stilinski. You of all people should know you're not _hideous_. You're not tolerable for more than small doses, but you're not terrible to look at."

"Thanks... I think. Not exactly sure whether I should be flattered or insulted," replied Stiles with a furrowed brow. Jackson shot Stiles an unamused expression, lifting an eyebrow before looking back down at his homework. "Jeeze, you're nearly as good as... other people at the whole silent, brooding thing."

"Other people?" questioned Jackson as Stiles started to gather his things. He received nothing but a nod in answer as Jackson simply watched the younger boy.

Stiles seemed to be completely undeterred by Jackson's gaze on him, and he double checked that he had everything. "I'm going to be late for work. I shou- Derek!" Jackson's brow furrowed and he turned in his seat to watch as Stiles started to lead _Derek Hale_ out of the library. "Later, Jackson!" Stiles called over his shoulder.

Jackson sat there silently, trying to piece _that_ one together. Sure, Derek had been exonerated of all charges, but still. The guy was kind of creepy. Why was _Stiles_, the sheriff's _son_ hanging out with Hale? For that matter, why didn't Stiles look scared of the guy that had half the town scared? It took Jackson only a moment before he rolled his eyes and gathered his things. He was going to go to Danny's. Danny always knew how to distract him from anything. Surely the guy would be able to distract him from the pesky thoughts of an even peskier teen that he did not care about.

* * *

"Derek, you can't just show up at the school," Stiles said with a laugh as the alpha drove him to work at the coffee shop. "You're going to give the librarian a heart attack."

Derek simply smirked a little, not taking his eyes off the road. "Her or the principal," came Derek's gruff reply. "Besides, you were late."

"I know," groaned Stiles, resting his head back on the seat. "I've never been late so far, so let's hope that I'm not in too much trouble. Is Scott with Allison?"

"Mmhmm. That's why I'm here to get your sorry ass since the Jeep..."

"How is my baby?

Derek rolled his eyes at the look of absolute _concern_ that crossed the teen's face, though he smiled faintly in amusement. "It'll be fine with repairs. How're you feeling?"

Stiles rolled his shoulder in a shrug, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I'm healing. It'll be fine. I'm fine. Promise."

The younger male flashed a brilliant grin in Derek's direction as they stopped outside the coffee shop that Stiles worked at. "Hey, Stiles. What's with that Jackson kid?" The alpha rolled his eyes when Stiles fixed a blank, confused stare in his direction. "He's been watching you a lot lately."

"Who knows? Probably trying to think of a new and clever way to be a rich bastard who picks on people for sport."

"Has he hurt you?"

"Wha-? No. Not physically," he answered with a shrug. Sure, some of the insults had gotten to him in the past; but, it was all water on a swan's back, or however that silly saying went. "He's harmless, Derek. Kinda like an overgrown, Sourwolf who is late for his date." Stiles smirked and then held up his hands in defeat as Derek glared at him before grabbing his bag and getting out of the Camaro to head into the little coffee shop that he spent much too much time in, learning about magic while working.


	3. Chapter Two -

As the days went on, Stiles' bruises faded and his jumpiness seemed to pass. At least, that was what Jackson noticed as Stiles had no problems laughing and joking around with Isaac as they made their way through the halls. All of them in their odd little group seemed to be in lighter moods. Whatever it was that was wrong probably passed, or something. Jackson decided to just put it out of his mind. It did not matter anyway. No, what he needed to focus on was the end of the lacrosse season quickly approaching, and the winter formal. Lydia wanted to make sure they were going to match and all that predictable popular couple stuff that he did not care about.

It was business as usual at Beacon Hills High, the way that Jackson liked it. Well, it was business as usual until he got to the library for his stupid little tutoring session one day about a week before the winter formal. Stiles seemed on edge again, every noise behind him making him jump. It did not take long for him to move so that his back was no longer facing the door, mumbling something about it being warmer over on the other side because of a vent. Which, that was true, Jackson figured as he absently shifted a little farther away from the teen next to him; but, the way that Stiles' eyes kept darting toward the door had Jackson thinking otherwise.

He might have been an asshole who did not give a shit about anyone around him; but, he was not stupid and could read most people fairly easily. "Are you... okay?" Jackson found himself asking after about thirty minutes, pulling a face at himself for asking something that seemed like caring. Okay, so, a part of him really was worried, but the lacrosse captain was just that, the lacrosse captain, not someone who worried about the class nerd.

Stiles seemed just as surprised as Jackson did that he actually asked. The younger boy eyed Jackson for a moment before plastering on one of his famous grins used to dispel any thoughts of negative emotions. "`M perfectly fine," he answered, shrugging a little as he focused on his textbook. "Trying to figure out why you _care_, though."

"I don't," came Jackson's immediate, snappy reply as he scowled, looking toward the clock on the wall before focusing on his homework once again.

"Right, 'course. I forgot." Stiles rolled his eyes and closed his textbook for a moment. "You're just a nosy fucker who has to know everything, worrying about no one but yourself. Forgive me for thinking for a moment you were actually a human being."

Jackson sighed inaudibly and grabbed Stiles' arm as the younger teen stood and started to gather his things. "Sit. We still have half an hour left," he insisted, nodding toward the books out in front of them. He was not exactly sure why, but he did not like the idea of Stiles rushing off somewhere distractedly, especially if the guy was _that_ tense and worried about something, even if he had just been insulted. Then again, he did deserve it, and he knew it. He was an asshole; but, that was how he got by.

Stiles absentmindedly flicked his tongue out to wet his lips, looking from the clock to where Jackson's hand was on his arm. "Yeah, okay," he replied with a sigh, dropping back down into his seat. Only when he was situated again did Jackson let go of his arm and they went back to working on the problems as if nothing had happened. Stiles honestly was not sure what to think of the whole little scenario. It was odd, but definitely not too high up there on the odd things that had happened in his life. After all, his best friends were werewolves.

They ended up working until Jackson's homework was done a little more than an hour later and Stiles smiled as he reached up to run his hand over his hair a few times with a yawn. "See, you're getting it now. S'not so difficult when you focus," the younger boy said.

Jackson smirked a little as he said, "Says the boy without any focus whatsoever."

"Yeah, well, I'm a genius." With a brilliant grin flashed in Jackson's direction, Stiles started to gather his things, glancing toward the door once again, that time with a frown. Isaac was supposed to be there to get him. Or was it Boyd? It was Boyd. Still, there was no sign of the dark-skinned werewolf he had grown to love snuggling with on movie nights. "Hmm? I'm sorry. What did you say?" Stiles asked after a moment, realizing that Jackson had said something to him as he had zeroed in on the door, hoping that Boyd would just be waiting in the parking lot.

"I asked if you were okay," replied Jackson, his brow furrowing a little as he tugged his backpack up onto his shoulder. "You looked like someone kicked you in the stomach."

"I'm fine. Just a bit paranoid." The last statement was mumbled mostly to himself as the two of them started outside, a good few feet between the two of them.

Once they got out to the parking lot, Stiles stopped suddenly, making Jackson run right into him. "Watch it, Stilinski. What the hell are you doing?" he said irritatedly with a scowl that only deepened as Stiles shushed him. It was then that he realized what made Stiles stop. The parking lot was _dark_. None of the street lamps were on like they were supposed to be. That was a bit unsettling, but Jackson shrugged it off and continued to his car. "Where's your ride?"

No sooner than he got the words out, a black van came screeching to a stop a few feet away from Stiles. "Jackson, get out of here!" the younger boy demanded, dropping his backpack onto the ground, he did not even have time to pull out his phone before some people that Jackson could barely see in the dark rushed out of the van and grabbed a hold of him.

Jackson was going to try to help Stiles, because seriously, like even he would just _stand_ there as someone is obviously being kidnapped. He dropped his own bag and grabbed the arm of one of the guys that had a hold of Stiles, throwing a punch at the guy's face while another one held some kind of rag over Stiles' face, muffling the boy's demands at Jackson to just go. It all seemed to be happening much too fast, but too slow at the same time. Jackson could not even really wrap his mind around what was going on, and that had him extremely frustrated. Stiles struggled a bit longer before whatever the rag was soaked in knocked him out, and that was the last thing Jackson saw before there was a sharp pain on the side of his head, and then blackness.

* * *

When Jackson woke up, he was alone in some dark room that smelt like sewage. "Stiles?" he mumbled, squinting as he looked around, trying to see in the dark. He received no response, though a part of him did not expect to; and, that, he decided, was the worst part. He swallowed thickly, felling an odd weight in his stomach. Jackson had no idea where he was or what was going on, but he was more worried about the annoying teen whose presence was gone.

He blindly fumbled around the room, checking his pockets for a phone or lighter only to find that anything he had been carrying in his pockets were gone. "Shit," he grumbled, swearing under his breath once again as he ran into something that hit around the middle. He tentatively ran his hands over it, squinting once again in attempt to see better in the dark room. A desk. He had hit a desk; but, he was not at Beacon Hills High.

Jackson kept trying to find a door or something, using his hands more than his eyes. It was really too dim in the room to make out anything but blobs of shape. He found the door after a few long minutes and tried the handle, only to scowl when it did not open. A second later, though, the door crashed open, knocking Jackson off balance and he fell back, landing on his ass with a grunt. He attempted to glare at the person that had burst into the room, but the light that spilled in really diminished the effect as Jackson lifted an arm to shield his eyes. After blinking a few times and adjusting to the light, Jackson saw an intimidating looking woman with curly hair that fell past her shoulders. She stood strong, as if she were expecting an attack, and sneered down at Jackson. "What will we do with this one?" Jackson heard someone behind the woman ask.

"Nothing. The Stilinski kid was not lying; this one knows nothing. We can't let him go, though, or he might go running his mouth," answered the woman in a less haughty voice than Jackson expected. It was a lot more of a calming voice, which only made Jackson shudder a little at how disarming it was.

A moment later, he found himself grunting as a _something_ was tossed in onto his lap and it took him seconds to realize it was Stiles. Stiles was unconscious, his nose was bleeding and he had a busted lip. The popular teen glared up at the woman as he tugged Stiles up to a sitting position. "What did you do to him?" questioned the lacrosse star, not pausing for a moment to have the freak out moment over the fact that he actually _cared_ that he wanted to have.

"Simply asked him a few questions," replied the woman with a bright, charming smile. "He's got a mouth on him, doesn't he? You best hope that the next time we ask him something, he gives us the right answer. Get your friend to talk, yes? We'll let you walk right out of here if you do."

No other words were said and the woman turned to leave, shutting the door behind her. Jackson heard the tell-tale _click!_ of the door locking; but, his attention was more on the boy he had leaning against him. Stiles was breathing, which was a good sign. Jackson did not know what to do, though. The part of him that always played the careless jerk that did not help people wanted to do as the woman had said, get Stiles to tell them... whatever it was that they wanted to know, so that he could get the hell out of there. At the same time, though, a twisting feeling in his gut told him that they would not really let him go; and, Stiles... Well, if he actually was worried about the other teen, then nobody but him need know.

* * *

"Hey, Derek, is Stiles over there?" asked Scott with a frown as he looked around his best friend's bedroom. Stiles should have been home by then. He knew Boyd was supposed to pick up the other boy; but, there was no hyperactive teen there. From the looks of Stiles' room, he had not been there since morning.

Scott did not have to see Derek to know that the alpha had a confused expression simply from the tone in his voice as he said, "No. Why?"

Scott frowned as he made his way back downstairs, checking the other rooms in the house, just to be sure, even though he knew Stiles was not there. He could not hear the telling sound of his best friend's heartbeat. "I'm at his house. He's not here. Boyd was supp-"

"Boyd got a text saying you got him," interrupted Derek, looking over to the mentioned teen, who sat up a little straighter on the couch he had been slouching on, playing some video game with Isaac.

"I didn't send any text. I've been with Allison at the Argents."

Derek growled low in his chest, clutching his phone a little tighter. While he might not always particularly like Stiles (the kid was annoying on the best of times and outright infuriating the rest), Stiles was still pack, and pack needed to be protected. With the looming threat of the alphas, they were all supposed to stay in contact and let each other know if there's a change in plans. Stiles not being home when he should have been was a big warning. "Then who the fuck did?"

"We'll check the library," Boyd offered, not waiting for a response as he tugged on Isaac's arm to get the boy to follow him out of the house so they could do just that. If Stiles was missing, then Boyd felt partially at fault. He should have checked in on them. Scott would not have canceled his plans with Allison for anything other than an emergency, and he should have _known_ that.

* * *

"Stiles?" questioned Jackson sometime later, having no idea how long they sat there in the dark with Jackson leaning against the wall, holding Stiles up against his side with the other boy's head on his shoulder, when he finally heard Stiles groan and felt the other teen move beside him.

He could feel Stiles blinking against his shoulder before a muffled and hoarse response of, "Jackson?" met his ears. Stiles slowly pulled away and the popular teen pulled his arm away as Stiles braced himself with one arm, wincing at the pain that coursed through his body as he moved his head too much. "Fuck. I'm sorry, I..." Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by some coughing and Jackson wished he had some water or something to give the kid. It sounded like he needed it. "Sorry. You should have... Why didn't you listen to me? You should have ran. You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," insisted Jackson as he crossed his arms over his chest, barely able to make out Stiles' bloodied face in the dim lighting of the room.

"Jackson, no, you don't... Fuck, this is so screwed up." He reached up to run a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut despite the fact that it was already really dark in the room.

"What is going _on_ Stilinski?" Jackson demanded to know, reaching out blindly to grip the other boy's arm, somehow managing to at least find his shoulder instead. It was better than missing entirely or poking the guy in the face, he guessed. "What do these people want from you? Why do they want to question you about something? Does this have anything to do with those bruises you were sporting a while back?"

"Yes," was all Stiles answered simply, wincing a little at Jackson's tight grip but not pulling away any. Stiles absentmindedly wet his lips and sighed softly, shifting so that he could rest against the wall next to Jackson, making the elder boy let go of his shoulder. He did not need to _see_ Jackson to know that the guy was fixing his best glare at Stiles for the simple answer of only one of the slew of questions. "Look, when we get out of here, I'll tell you everything," he said, wincing as he shifted around. Slowly, he was becoming more and more aware of the different injuries he had and he could not keep his hands from shaking. "Missed a dose."

The statement was mumbled to himself, but Jackson heard it anyway. "You better tell me everything, Stilinski, or I swear to god..."

"You'll rip my throat out with your teeth. I know, I know. I've been threatened violently before."

If Stiles could have seen Jackson's face better, he would have seen a completely confused and slightly amused expression contorting the lacrosse star's features. "That's... creative?"

Stiles hummed a little in response, shifting over to lean his head against Jackson's shoulder once again, deciding to say 'fuck all' to any thoughts of being shoved away. Jackson tensed for a moment, but did not shove him away, much to Stiles' pleasured surprise. "If we g-" he started to say, but he was cut off by an indignant sound from Stiles.

"No. _When_, it's _when_ we get out. We're getting out. Help's coming," replied Stiles with a nod, yawning a little. He had only just woken up, but he still felt exhausted, and sleeping felt like a better way to wait through the terrible pain in his side and the sinking feeling that his ankle was broken. There was also something wrong with his leg. His nose, thankfully, was not broken, but he could taste the blood on his lips from it bleeding and his busted lip. Why was it that the human always took the beating?

"Oh, yeah, sheriff's kid." Jackson, of course, thought that the sheriff and the police department was the help that Stiles was referring to, and Stiles was too tired to tell him any differently. Jackson would find out, anyway. Of course, once he did, there was going to be a whole lot of drama, and Stiles just hoped that Jackson was ready for what all was going to happen next. If not, well, then it would suck to be him.


	4. Chapter Three -

Jackson was startled awake by the sound of the door slamming open, and he felt Stiles jump next to him with a groan. "Grab him," the woman from before said to two large and surly looking men.

Before either of them reached Stiles, Jackson was up and on his feet, throwing a punch at the closest man's face. It hurt, but Jackson pushed past that. He had hurt worse playing in lacrosse. The other man grabbed styles by his shirt collar, jerking him to his feet. The man that Jackson had hit growled and threw a punch at him, catching him in the abdomen which knocked the wind out of him. "Don't hurt him!" insisted Stiles, attempting to get out of the other man's hold to get to Jackson as the lacrosse player caught his breath and went to throw another punch only to get shoved back against the wall.

The wind was completely knocked out of him, and Jackson's vision went black for a few moments. When he was aware of his surroundings again, he was alone in the room. "Fuck," the popular teen swore under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

He sat there only a little while longer before getting up again, trying to blindly search the room for a way out. He could hear the muffled sounds of his captors outside the room, but could not make heads or tails of what was going on. His heart was beating rapidly somewhere around his middle the more time went on. They had Stiles. While he might not care anything about the guy, that did not mean it was _okay_ that people were... well, beating the shit out of him for lack of a better way to phrase it. Jackson still had no idea what was going on, and he was starting to feel a bit faint from the lack of food in his system.

That did not stop him from trying to find a weakness in the wall, a door he hadn't seen, _anything_ that could be used as a weapon. There was nothing, though, and when Stiles was dragged back into the room, he was sitting on the floor against the wall. Stiles was placed at his feet and did not move as a bottle of water and a package of crackers were dropped next to the teen. "While your friend may have no sense of self preservation, let's hope he values your life over his own," the woman at the door stated with a grin that made Jackson feel sick to his stomach.

It was not until the door was shut that Jackson moved to check on Stiles, firstly checking for a pulse. "Stilinski, wake up," Jackson insisted, shaking Stiles' shoulder a little.

The other teen did not wake up. He groaned and curled in on himself more, but that only seemed to make breathing harder for him. "Jesus," grumbled Jackson as he made Stiles lay out flat and placed a tentative hand on the other boy's side. The bones felt broken, and if the way Stiles winced was any indication, they were. "Stilinski, open your eyes. Fuck."

A soft groan was heard a few moments later as Stiles slowly started to move, tensing up as the pain flared through his body. "God damn," he groaned, clenching his teeth, slowly shifting up to rest on one of his arms to prop himself up into a reclined sitting position. "How long?"

"I don't know," replied Jackson, reaching blindly for the bottle of water they were given, not tearing his eyes away from Stiles. "Here. They left this and something else, this time."

"Thanks." Stiles struggled to sit up more, though it was easier when Jackson put a hand on his back instinctively when Stiles leaned back a bit. Neither of them said anything as Stiles took a few small drinks of the water, not sure when they would be given more, before passing the bottle to Jackson. Stiles then carefully shifted back until his back hit the wall and he sighed, leaning against it. He felt hot and cold, his head was pounding, and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep; but, he knew that sleeping probably was not the best idea.

Jackson took a couple crackers from the package before handing it to Stiles as well; the two attempts at hospitality were then set aside. "Why don't you just tell them what they want to know?" Jackson questioned after some tense silence.

Stiles frowned as he absentmindedly ran his hands over the ground on either side of his legs, fingers curling in, almost as if he was trying to take a hold of the ground. "Because they'll use that information to kill people, Jackson," answered Stiles in a hoarse, broken voice that sounded so very different from the energy filled ramble that Jackson was used to hearing at the school. Jackson wanted that back. "They'll kill so many people, and I can't... I won't be the cause of someone else's death. Not when I can stop it."

"What are you _on_ about, Stilinski?" questioned Jackson irritatedly. There were points that Stiles made that made sense, but then he would go off and say things like that. Whose death had the teen caused before? What really was going on? The questions were starting to just piss off Jackson by that point; and, if it weren't for the fact that he could hear Stiles gasping for breath, practically wheezing, he would have attempted to beat the answer out of the other teen.

"Just... never mind, Jackson." Stiles' voice was short and irritated, but broken and uneven, almost like he was trying to hold back tears.

Jackson sat there quietly for a long while before he got up, only to move over and sit down next to Stiles. "What?" questioned the injured teen, though he received no answer. Jackson just sat there, but once again, when Stiles rested his head on the other boy's shoulder, Jackson did not move away. It hurt to lean like he was, but Stiles did not move away, taking comfort in having someone else right there, even if it was Jackson. "Sorry for getting you in this mess."

Stiles' words were slurred when they reached Jackson's ears what felt like an eternity later, thick with tiredness and emotions that Jackson could not name. "Just get some sleep, Stiles," replied Jackson with a heavy sigh, letting his head fall back against the wall, wincing a little when it hurt.

When Jackson woke up the next time, it was to the sound of muffled shouts and gunshots. The door was open, but there was no one in the room with him and Stiles. "Stiles, Stiles the door's open," Jackson said, reaching over to shake the other boy's shoulder, lifting his own to get the guy to start to wake up faster.

Stiles seemed confused for a moment, but when they heard something that sounded like a very inhuman growl, a smile spread across Stiles' bloody face. "C'mon, cavalry is here," Stiles said, carefully leading himself up the wall to stand, having an easier time of it when Jackson stood and assisted him.

"Wha-?" he started to ask, but Stiles interrupted him, telling him to just be quiet as they made their way to the door. They had just reached it when a body _flew_ past it, as if someone ridiculously strong had been thrown, only when Jackson looked to the direction the body came from, some weird humanoid dog thing stood there with glowing yellow eyes.

Jackson started to pull Stiles back into the safety of the room, thinking that maybe they had not been noticed, but Stiles shrugged him off. "Isaac!" Stiles said instead, and as the thing took a few steps forward, Jackson watched as the indescribable features faded away to that of the curly-haired boy that he went to school with. Jackson just stood there as Isaac wrapped his arms around Stiles in a hug, both of them seemingly uncaring that there was an all out brawl going on behind them. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm... o-oh..." Stiles closed his eyes, and Jackson remained silently confused as the tension that was in the other boy's body seemingly lifted as he slowly relaxed only to pull away a moment later with a smile. "Thanks, Isaac. C'mon, let's get Jackson out of here."

"Derek's _pissed_," Isaac explained as Stiles took Jackson's wrist, tugging the lacrosse player after him so that they could follow Isaac to the door.

Jackson wanted to ask a million questions, to demand answers; but, instead, he kept quiet, narrowly managing to escape being hurt by some people who were all animalistic like Isaac had been moments before. He felt shaky and sick to his stomach at the blood and lifeless bodies scattered around, and he was all but terrified when he spotted Derek Hale, with glowing red eyes, _telling_ someone that they were going to leave Beacon Hills and never return or they would suffer the same fate as the others.

Once everyone was outside (everyone being not only himself and Stiles, but Isaac, Derek, Scott, Boyd, and Erica) Jackson yanked his arm out of Stiles' grasp, nearly making the other boy lose balance. If it weren't for Boyd's hand on Stiles' shoulder, the other boy would have fallen over. "What the _fuck_ is going on?" Jackson demanded as he looked around the others, most of whom were still panting from the fight out there in front of one of the old warehouses. "And what the fuck _are_ you?"

"Isaac, you explain. We've _got_ to get Stiles to the hospital," Boyd said stiffly, and that caused Jackson to pause for a moment, glancing over at Stiles who looked scarily pale and like he was going to keel over at any second.

"Mom already knows we're coming," stated Scott, a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

Jackson seemed to weigh his options, glancing back toward the warehouse they had gotten out of, before saying, "Just explain on the way."

* * *

Werewolves. Werewolves were real. Werewolves, and witches, and who knew what else. Jackson was numb. The information had not quite set in, but none of the group seemed to be willing to let Jackson go off alone, just in case he "reacted badly". They were not expecting him to run off and tell the first person he saw. After all, they would only think he was crazy. The group was more worried about Jackson doing something stupid, like trying to drive or something. Stiles was asleep in the hospital bed, out cold due to the pain medications they had given him. His nose was fine, but he did have a couple broken ribs. His knee was pretty messed up, though the doctor said it should be fine with a bit of physical therapy and surgery.

Jackson absently bit his thumbnail as he sat there in the hospital room, feeling very out of place. He was surrounded by McCall, Allison (who apparently had taken out a few of their captors with her friggen bow and arrow), Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Derek, and Sheriff Stilinski. He heard the man thank Derek for getting his son back home in one piece, and reminded the man that pack meetings (_pack meetings_) would have to take place at the Stilinski house while Stiles was still healing. Jackson really was not so sure what he was dragged in to, and he was not sure he wanted to stay.

After it was assured that Jackson was not in shock, medically anyway, it was said that he could go on home. Derek drove him, and neither one of them said anything until they were almost at the Whittemore house. "Don't expect me to suddenly start hanging out with you lot because I know," Jackson said gruffly, scowling out the passenger side window.

"I don't," replied Derek, not taking his gaze off the road for a moment. "You know, and that's fine as long as you don't go running your mouth. If you do, I will rip your throat out w-"

"With your teeth." Jackson laughed a little, resting his head against the window as he shook it slightly, not caring to answer Derek's silent question in the form of a completely confused expression. It made a bit of sense to Jackson by that point. The touching, the protecting, Stiles' injuries, him not so much as flinching to threats, the "creative" threat that had been mentioned in the library. "Jesus, it was always right in front of me."

Derek rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh, but said nothing until they were parked outside Jackson's home. "Your parents were told that you were on a camping trip after we found out you were with Stiles," he explained. "Get out of my car."

Jackson mimicked Derek's eye roll before climbing out of the Camaro, shutting the door after himself. When he walked into the house, he was greeted with a hug from his mother, who said, "You look as though the world has ended, dear. What's wrong?"

A short, slightly bitter laugh passed the teen's lips and he shook his head before heading up to his room, mumbling about being tired. The world had not ended, just his perception of it, while everything else continued to go on like nothing was different. He guessed nothing really was different, except for him and the way he saw it all. There were _supernatural_ beings in the world and he just so happened to go to school with some of them. Jackson had no idea where his cell phone was, and after a quick check of his pockets, he decided that he did not care where it had gone off to. He would just buy a new one.

Collapsing onto his bed, Jackson never let himself think on the fact that there were probably a hundred missed messages from Lydia, demanding to know where he was and why he missed the final fitting for his formal suit. The only thing he thought about was how pale and broken Stiles had looked on that hospital bed, and trying to figure out why the thought was enough to make his chest hurt.

* * *

Monday morning, armed with a new phone, Jackson walked into the halls of Beacon Hills High. He had a frown on his face as he walked toward his locker, ignoring everyone's non-stop chatter about the dance on Friday. They were going on about their lives, happily not knowing about the werewolves or the constant threat of violence and death that surrounded the town. None of them were aware that the only reason McCall was any good at lacrosse was because he had a little extra help, or the reason that Erica's epilepsy treatments worked were because she could no longer get sick; and, _nobody_ seemed to notice that a hyperactive, overly-energetic teen that never shut up was nowhere to be seen. It was almost like Stiles was never there to begin with.

Jackson frowned and tried to shrug off those thoughts, only to find himself sighing a moment later when Danny was at his side. "Dude, you look like you've just had the worst life altering revelation ever," Danny commented, looking his friend over.

"Yeah, well..." Jackson replied with a shrug, shutting his locker before leaning against it. "Have you seen Lydia?"

It was as if she had super hearing and appeared just because her name was said, because right then, Lydia came into the hall, glaring daggers at Jackson. "Just _where_ were you all weekend?" she asked as she hit his shoulder. "Why did you not answer your phone, asshole?"

"I dropped it in the pool, got a new one. I'll give you the number." Jackson sighed inaudibly and leaned in enough to kiss Lydia gently. "Sorry, babe. Got caught up with my parents over the weekend. It's been a while since they've been home and mom insisted on family time."

"Yeah, well..." Lyida huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Tonight. Suit fitting. Be there, Jackson."

Jackson wanted nothing to do with the suit fitting. He did not want to go to the stupid dance. He wanted to yell at everyone for being so stupid and not seeing what it was that was right there in front of them the entire time. He did not know how it had taken _him_ so long to pick up on it. Maybe it was because he did not want to see. School demanded his attention from his crisis of dealing with the new information that had been thrust on him; but, he could not even focus on that once he realized that Scott was in the classroom alone, looking like a wounded puppy because Stiles was not there.


	5. Chapter Four -

Jackson randomly checked his cell phone with a faint frown as he went through the annoying suit fitting. As predicted, the suit that Lydia had chosen was way too expensive and highly uncomfortable. The tie was the same color as Lydia's dress. They were going to look "so amazing" as Lydia and the guy making sure the suit fit correctly both stated. Jackson really did not care. His mind was completely somewhere else. Nobody noticed or commented. Lydia just kept talking about the dance and how they were a "sure thing" to win the king and queen positions. Once again, Jackson really did not care. He made no comment, however, as he sat with her and they ate at some overly priced restaurant with mediocre food. Jackson sighed inaudibly and checked his phone once again, brow furrowing when he realized that he had a new text. He hadn't heard it go off. A quick check told him that his phone was on silent still, which was why he had not known. The text was from an unknown number, and Jackson simply stared at the number for a moment before reading the text.

_Hey. I know I'm the last person you want to hear from. Just wanted to make sure you were okay, and say thanks again for helping me like you did. -Stiles _

Jackson stared at the text for a few moments before putting his cell phone back into his pocket and focusing on Lydia once again. She smiled at him and Jackson could not help but smile back at her. It was when she smiled that Jackson remembered why he had gotten together with Lydia in the first place. She was gorgeous, yes; but, underneath that, she was very smart, even if she tried to hide it. He was not sure why she did, and it was that side of her that Jackson was actually attracted to, not the mask. Jackson knew that it was all just an image thing for her, though. "Are you ready to head out?" Jackson asked once she got to the point of picking at her food, something that Jackson had done the entire time. He found it difficult to stomach much food just yet. It was better than it had been when he had first gotten home, however.

It was not until Jackson got home that he saved Stiles' number to his phone, and it took another two hours before he finally texted back.

_I'm fine. Don't mention it._

Tossing his phone aside, Jackson went downstairs to get some 7UP and something else light to try to eat while watching some sort of medical drama on the television with his parents. The only issue with that was every few minutes had him thinking about Stiles once again and wondering if the other boy had replied to the short text he had sent off. "I'll be right back," he mumbled once the show went on a commercial break, and his mother asked him to grab her some water. "Yeah, sure." With a nod, Jackson got up and went upstairs to grab his phone, where he found that he did have a response from Stiles. He did not read it, but took his phone downstairs to the kitchen, where he got some water in a glass to bring to his mother. After sitting back down, Jackson finally checked the message.

_If you want to talk, I'm being released tomorrow. You can come over any time after noon._

Jackson frowned a little, tapping his fingers on his phone as he focused on the television. He was not sure he wanted to go talk to Stilinski, but he still had a lot of questions that he wanted answered. Plus, a part of him wanted to make sure that the guy really was okay. After all, Stiles had been pretty severely hurt. Jackson tried to ignore the nagging want to reply, focusing on the television. He did not want to talk about what he had learned, but he did at the same time. How did Stiles even get tangled up in that mess? He _still_ did not know who it was that had kidnapped them. After another few moments, Jackson finally sighed heavily and picked up his phone to send another text to Stiles.

_Ok._

It was simple and short, to the point; but, it was Jackson, and honestly more than Stiles had even anticipated. The injured teen blinked a little in surprise before setting his phone aside as his dad came into the room. "You know you're not supposed to be using that," the sheriff said, though he had a faintly amused smirk on his face.

Stiles shrugged a little, closing his eyes for a moment. "I wanted to check on Jackson," Stiles answered, keeping his eyes closed to avoid seeing whatever reaction the statement brought his father. "He might come by the house tomorrow."

"Okay. Just, don't get too worked up. I'm supposed to keep you on bed rest for a while."

Stiles made a soft noise of uncaring, waving a hand dismissively. Sure, he was still really hurt, and he knew he probably should just rest for about a week; but, Stiles was too antsy to stay in one place too long. Everyone knew that. "I've got to head in to work, but I'll be here first thing in the morning, kiddo," the sheriff said, earning a nod and a sleepy smile from his son. Stiles was asleep again before the sheriff even left the room.

* * *

_How did you even get my number?_

Stiles' brow furrowed a little as he read over the text on his phone. He was sitting up in his bed, wincing a little as he shifted wrong and caused his ribs to catch fire. Only, not literally because that would have been a lot messier. It took him another few moments before he realized the question had come from Jackson. Stiles sighed and reached up to run a hand through his hair before responding.

_Danny. He heard I was in the hospital and actually came by to see me after school yesterday. I asked him._

Stiles sat his phone down with another sigh, glancing up toward the clock hanging up on the far wall. He still had another few minutes before the release papers were all filled out and he would be able to go home. He was under strict instructions to do as little moving as possible while his ribs healed and to only take the pain medications when the pain became really bad. He could take over-the-counter medications like tylenol or ibuprofen as needed, however. Heating pads and ice randomly would help with the soreness as well, apparently. Stiles did not know for sure. He just knew that being bedridden sucked. At least at home, he was _at home_. He would have his own bed, a television with access to movies and shows that he actually liked, video games, and his computer. It would be less miserable there, and he had the entire pack already volunteered to randomly check on him to keep his dad's mind at ease while the sheriff was at work.

_Oh. When are you going to be home?_

The injured teen smiled faintly at the new text message, reaching up to run a hand through his hair before typing out a quick reply that he sent out just as his dad came into the room. "You ready to go, kiddo?" the sheriff asked with a smile, chuckling a little at Stiles' enthusiastic reply.

Meanwhile, across town, Jackson was reassuring Danny that he was fine, that he just had not felt up to dealing with everyone at school and that's why he was skipping. He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the text message that had come in and read the short reply.

_Soon. :)_

"Jackson?" he heard Danny say, and he could all but see his best friend's concerned expression.

The lacrosse captain sighed and put the phone back to his ear as he said, "I'm fine. Don't worry. I'll text you later. I've got something to do."

After his best friend said a reluctant good-bye so he could head back to class, Jackson hung up his own phone and sighed, running a hand over his face. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. Nothing seemed right or okay, and he just wanted to go to sleep until he could wake up and find everything back to normal. However, he knew that would never happen, so he got up, took a shower, got dressed, and then left the house. He drove aimlessly for about an hour before he found himself parking outside of the Stilinski house. The sheriff's cruiser was not parked out front, which led Jackson to believe that Stiles was home alone, something that made the teen slightly on edge for some reason.

Jackson swore under his breath and got out of the car, heading to the front door where he almost reluctantly knocked. He was prepared for Stiles to be the one opening the door, not really thinking on the fact that the other teen was most likely confined to his bedroom, and stepped back in slight shock when Derek Hale was the one to answer. "Uh..." the lacrosse player said dumbly, momentarily forgetting why he was there in the first place.

"Stiles is up in his room," Derek stated, moving out of the way so that Jackson could come inside. Once the teen was, Derek shut the door and went into the kitchen. He grabbed a plate that had a sandwich and some chips on it and a can of Root Beer, both of which he gave to Jackson. "Third door on the left. Tell him I'll be around later."

"Uh..." Jackson blinked slowly and then found himself standing alone in the Stilinski kitchen. He looked around once before sighing heavily and starting up the stairs.

When he got into Stiles' bedroom, Stiles was sitting on his bed, propped up by a mound of pillows, as he read one of the books assigned for the English class. "Took you long enough, Sourwolf," Stiles stated with an amused smirk, expecting it to be Derek that stood near his door and not Jackson looking completely out of place and slightly uncomfortable. "Oh. Uh, hi, Jackson. I didn't know you got here."

"Uhm, yeah. Hale, he uh, said he'd be back later," replied Jackson with a nod before taking the plate and over to Stiles, who sat aside the book to take the two items. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, right now, I'm only in minor discomfort. Ibuprofen only does so much, and I'm not allowed to touch the good stuff unless it hurts _really_ badly. Derek and Dad would skin me alive if I started using too much. Something about it being addictive and messing with my other medications and blahblahblah. I stopped listening after being told 'no'. You can sit wherever." Stiles gestured around the room absently and then focused on opening the soda, taking a drink before setting it on his bedside table. "Let me tell you, being confined to my room is hell. I'd say fuck the rules, but Derek and the pups will know if I leave my room and then there'd be the whole growling 'grr'ness that happens when I do something I'm not supposed to and I'd really rather not deal with that right now."

Jackson stared at Stiles as if the teen had grown a second head as he slowly sat down on the chair next to Stiles' desk, turning it so that he could face the bed. "Are you sure you've not taken any of those pills?" Jackson cocked a brow and Stiles laughed around a rather large bite of his sandwich, thankfully swallowing before speaking.

"Nah. I'm just starting to feel better, y'know. Plus, someone's got to talk to fill the quiet of this place. I'm usually stuck with Derek, who isn't much of a conversationalist, or Isaac. I love Isaac. He's a great snuggle partner. Only, snuggling is kinda out at the moment; but, that doesn't stop him from laying with me, which is still nice."

Jackson watched as Stiles continued rambling about anything that came to mind, and he tried to push aside the uneasy feeling he got at the thought of someone sleeping next to Stiles. He stayed quiet as Stiles continued to talk and eat, not deterred at all by Jackson's lack of response. Jackson had always known that Stiles was a bit of a motor mouth simply from being in the same class as him since forever. However, being one-on-one with the guy made it that much more obvious. Jackson wanted to be annoyed by it, really he did. However he found it to be something more of a comfort. If Stiles was smiling and talking so much, then he was okay. Jackson definitely preferred this side of Stiles than the quiet, barely conscious and injured teen curled up against his side. "You talk a lot without actually saying anything," Jackson commented after a while, silencing Stiles for a few moments.

The younger teen fixed slightly shocked, yet amused eyes on Jackson, smiling softly in a way that was much different than the goofy grin that the rest of the world knew. "Yeah, well, it's what I do. I mean, how else am I going to avoid things I don't want to talk about? Nobody pays enough attention to catch it. Well, except you apparently." Stiles smiled once again, taking another drink out of his soda before shifting just enough to get more comfortable, inhaling sharply at the slight increase in pain that slowly faded away. "So, I figure that you're here because you want to ask questions about what happened. To save you from actually asking, why don't I just tell you what I know from the beginning?" Jackson nodded a little, sinking down into his seat a little in an effort to get comfortable and Stiles nodded as well. "It started when I got news over the CB radio that there was a body found in the woods, and not just any body... it was _half_ a body..."

Jackson listened in silence as Stiles explained all about the werewolves, what really happened in the school the night that they had all gotten trapped in the school, about the "animal attacks" that had happened, about Peter Hale, about Derek killing the man and becoming an alpha, about Isaac and the other betas, about Scott's tentative relationship with the pack, about the Argents and their ties to the Hales. It was so much to take in all at once, and Jackson felt slightly dizzy once it was all over with. The people that had kidnapped him and Stiles were _humans_ that wanted to destroy Derek's pack, humans that had enlisted the help of a few omega werewolves. Jackson felt sick. He did not move, however, not until Stiles had stared at him for a long while and he excused himself to get some water from the kitchen.

Jackson lingered at the sink, hanging onto the edge as he breathed deeply and slowly after having downed an entire glass of water. He was so focused on not freaking out now that he had all the information that he both wanted and did not want that he had not heard the sheriff come in until the man said, "Feel free to go get sick in the bathroom. I know I did when I found out."

"You let Stiles continue to spend time with these people, knowing things like _this_ can happen?" questioned Jackson, turning around to face the sheriff while gesturing toward the stairs.

Sheriff Stilinski chuckled softly with an amused glint in his eyes as he crossed his arms, leaning against the dining room table. "I can't exactly tell him 'no', Jackson. He'll only do what he wants anyway. Once he puts his mind to something..." The sheriff shook his head with a heavy sigh. "I want what's best for my son, and he wants to help these people any way that he can. It's scary and it's beyond dangerous; but, I know that they will protect him with their lives."

The two of them ended up spending some time in silence, working together to make dinner, though Jackson was not sure how that had happened. Once it was done, Jackson took enough upstairs for himself and Stiles, who looked at the other teen with a completely shocked expression. "You're still here," Stiles stated, slowly reaching out to take the plate that Jackson held out for him.

"Yeah, well... I brought you your homework," Jackson answered with a shrug. "Plus, you never did finish helping me with that algebra work."

Stiles laughed softly and smiled as he nodded before gesturing for Jackson to sit down on the bed with him. "Eat first, and then we can work on the homework."


	6. Chapter Five -

After that, Jackson came over to the Stilinski house every day after lacrosse practice to work on homework with Stiles. That Friday, Stiles was back at the school, despite his doctor saying he should probably continue to stay home. Jackson did not talk to Stiles, or even look in the other teen's direction (not when Stiles was looking anyway); but, Stiles did not expect it really. He spent the entire day with Boyd, Isaac, and Erica surrounding him, keeping him smiling and safe from running into things the entire day. Scott was with him when he could be, but their schedules did not line up so easily that year, much to both their dismay. "Are you coming to the dance tonight, Batman?" Erica asked Stiles from her spot next to him at one of the corner tables in the cafeteria.

It amazed Jackson that nobody even seemed to notice that Stiles was back, much like they had not noticed his absence. It honestly made Jackson want to hit the lot of them, but instead, he just sat there, talking about the upcoming lacrosse game with Danny and a few of his teammates. Stiles lifted his shoulders in a shrug, poking at his practically solid thing of macaroni and cheese. "I don't know, probably not," he replied before laughing a little with a smile at her. "Can you really picture _me_ at a school dance? I'd either look like an idiot or just sit there like a loser."

"I think you should come." Erica smiled at him, a genuine smile that Jackson had never really seen on her face before. "Derek's going somewhere out of town, Isaac has a date with Danny, and Boyd doesn't like to dance so much. I need someone to dance with when he wants to sit. Please? Don't leave me hangin'."

"Fine," replied Stiles with a soft sigh, flicking a green bean at her. "But, I'm not wearing a tie." He glanced up as Erica nodded and went on about how he'd look better without one anyway, and smiled a little as he caught Jackson watching him. Jackson did not return the expression, but he did not at Stiles in acknowledgment before focusing on the conversation at hand once again.

Danny's brow furrowed a little as he glanced over to Erica and Stiles to see what his best friend had been looking at. The expression only deepened as Stiles ducked his head and focused strongly on the tray in front of him. Danny's gaze then went back to his best friend, who was heavily involved in the conversation about how the DJ that night was going to be absolutely terrible. With an inaudible sigh, Danny made a mental note to talk to Jackson about that later.

* * *

"So, why were you staring at Stiles at lunch?" Danny questioned half-way through getting ready for the dance at Jackson's place. Jackson frowned a little, straightening his shirt with a soft sigh; but, he did not answer and Danny frowned as well. "He's a good guy, Jackson."

"I know," replied Jackson with a sigh, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt once it sat right, looking over toward Danny. "I was there... when he got hurt. I mean, this time, since he's been out of school the past few days. I was _there_, and even though the assholes that had us were solely focused on hurting _him_, he kept trying to protect _me_. I don't know why, though."

Danny nodded a little. He had known. He did not know the full story, but when Isaac had told him the glossed over version, he did not ask for more details. He would know when they were ready for him to know. "The thing about Stiles is," Danny stated as he tugged on his suit jacket, looking into the mirror there in Jackson's room, "even though he has the slightly annoying habit of seeing and pointing out the worst in people, he can also see the best."

Jackson did not have a response to that, so he did not say anything and the two of them continued to get ready in silence. Jackson knew that Danny was going to the dance with Isaac. He was not sure what all Danny knew about the little group, and until he knew for sure, he would keep what he knew to himself. His own world was in a complete tailspin; Danny did not need that, too. "He's going to be there tonight," Danny commented as the two of them headed downstairs a few minutes later.

"I know," replied Jackson with a nod, double checking that he had his keys and his wallet.

"You're going with Lydia."

A curt nod was all Danny received in answer until the two of them were out at their cars. "Nothing's changed," Jackson offered with a shrug and a shake of his head, running a hand through his hair.

Danny just chuckled softly and shook his head a little. He had taken notice of his best friend's habit of studying Stiles Stilinski well before the kidnapping. He also knew about Jackson going over to study with the teen as well as the little tutoring sessions at the library. He saw the way that Jackson looked at Stiles, both with remorse and curiosity. There was something there, whether Jackson admitted it to anyone or not. "She'll understand," stated the darker-skinned boy with a knowing nod, smiling slightly at the dirty look that Jackson gave him.

"Nothing's changed." With a resolute nod, Jackson climbed into his own car and sped out of the driveway, leaving Danny at his place so that he could go get Lydia for the dance. Danny had to go pick up Isaac, anyway.

When Danny got to the school, Jackson and Lydia were already there. She was talking with Allison at the drink table while Jackson sat, arms crossed over his chest, at one of the tables near the edge of the gym floor as most of the students were crammed together on the middle of the floor on a make-shift dance floor. Isaac seemed nervous next to him, but that melted away when Danny gently squeezed his hand and led the other boy out to the floor. He relaxed even more when Stiles sent him a bright smile and a thumbs-up when the still-injured teen spotted him.

Jackson spent a good amount of time on the dance floor with Lydia, staying as far away from Stiles as he could manage. They smiled, and laughed, and put on a good show; but, they both knew it was a show. The way his eyes strayed to Stiles and hers to someone Jackson could not pin point was enough sign for both of them. Neither of them made a move to talk to the person they were eying, however. They did have images to keep. The dance was almost over when Lydia watched as Jackson's eyes followed Stiles while the other boy quietly made his way toward the doors, smiling to himself as he watched Erica and Boyd slow dancing before ducking out of the gym. Lydia pressed a kiss to his cheek and squeezed his arm before saying, "Go after him."

"Huh?" Jackson all but sputtered as he quickly looked to Lydia, who was smiling a little.

"I'm not exactly sure who he is, but 've noticed you watching him a few times. There's always this look in your eyes. I'm not really sure what it is, but... maybe it's time we actually try being happy for once. High school's almost over."

"When did you get to be so smart?"

Lydia scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder, lips twisting up into a wicked smirk. "Honey, we both know I've always been smart." She made a shooing motion with her hands and flicked her bangs out of her eyes. "Go, Jackson. You want to, so... don't let this opportunity pass you by. It's time to begin actually living for a change."

Jackson seemed to think about it for a moment before pressing a kiss to Lydia's cheek. He smiled slightly at her, gently squeezing her hand, and then followed Stiles out of the gymnasium. He did not know which direction the other boy had gone, but decided to check the parking lot first. Once there, he looked around and ended up spotting Stiles standing over in the partially lit lacrosse field. The school always kept half the lights on it going when it was dark, so that they could see any trespassers during the night. Stiles was tossing a lacrosse ball in the air, catching it when it came back down to about mid-chest. He was unaware of Jackson behind him until he heard the other boy say, "What're you doing out here alone?"

Stiles jumped a little and spun around to face Jackson, the ball landing on the ground somewhere behind him. "Jackson..." Stiles said simply in response. He smiled a little, crossing his arms over his chest with a slight shrug. "Dunno. Just... got restless from sitting there. What are _you_ doing out here?"

"I..." Jackson trailed off, lifting his shoulders in a shrug as he walked closer to Stiles. "I was looking for you."

The look of shock on Stiles' face was enough to make Jackson chuckle a little. "Why?"

Jackson lifted his shoulders in a shrug again. He was not sure how to say anything that he was thinking or feeling. He was never good with words, but the small smile on Stiles' face led him to believe that Stiles knew that already. "Wanna go back inside? I mean, we could..." Jackson spoke softly but the amused smirk that tugged on Stiles lips proved that the other boy had heard him.

"If you want a dance, just ask," replied Stiles, laughing softly.

Stiles did not seem to mind that Jackson's way of asking was reaching out for his hand, which he placed in the other teen's, and the two of them wordlessly went back inside. Jackson was not completely sure how everything was going to change, he just knew that as they stood close on the dance floor, Jackson's arms around the other boy's waist, that nothing would be the same. Stiles was not sure exactly what was going on, either; but, he didn't question as he stayed close to Jackson, neither one aware of anyone around them.

Scott looked completely confused while Lydia and Allison smiled, talking softly together. Isaac and Danny were nowhere to be seen, but they would both be all smiles if they could see the two most unlikely of people sharing the last dance of the night. "You didn't have to try to protect me, y'know," Jackson stated softly after a moment.

Stiles laughed softly as he shook his head a little, smiling slightly. "No, but you didn't have to actually try to protect me, either," replied Stiles. "Thank you, though. It was pretty cool seeing you punch that guy in the face."

"Yeah, well, you might be annoying, but..." Jackson smirked a little as Stiles hit his shoulder lightly.

"Jerk. You're supposed to be nice to me. I'm injured."

Both of them smiled slightly and fell into a companionable silence as they listened to the song and stayed pressed fairly close together. It was enough that they were both on edge, but neither one was really uncomfortable. Jackson found that he actually liked having Stiles close to him, if only because he knew that no one would hurt him if the other teen was right there. Jackson never wanted to see Stiles as hurt as he had been when they were in that room ever again. It was terrible enough the first time.

Neither one was exactly sure what to do with themselves when Jackson took Stiles home after the dance ended. They were barely even friends, but both boys liked one another's company. "I don't know what I'm doing," Jackson admitted as he parked the Porche outside Stiles' place, his grip tightening on the steering wheel slightly.

"Yeah, well," replied Stiles with a soft laugh as he toyed with the cuffs of his shirt, "I don't exactly know, either. I'm generally a fan of just making it up as I go along. It tends to work for me." Stiles continued to play with the slightly frayed ends of his shirt before looking over at Jackson, smiling softly. "I guess we can figure it out together."

"Yeah..." Jackson nodded a little, slowly relaxing and releasing his grip on the steering wheel. "I'm, uh... I'm glad that you came tonight."

Stiles laughed softly once again, trying to figure out how this was his life. Jackson Whittemore, of all people, was next to him and playing nice. "Yeah, me too." Stiles nodded a little, resting his hands in his lap with a glance toward the house, where the porch light was shining. "I should... probably go. I'll... see you Monday?"

Jackson nodded firmly at the upward tilt in the statement that had been more of a question. "Monday," replied Jackson, smiling slightly over at Stiles.

After the other teen left the car, Jackson sighed and rested his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes for a moment. He had been honest before. He had no idea what he was doing or feeling. He was not sure what was going on, and everything he was doing was something that he _wanted_ despite the fact that it was nothing his position in the school hierarchy would allow. Stiles was not popular, he was an outcast. Jackson was not someone who should have wanted to spend time with the overly talkative teen; but, he did want to, and he guessed that was just something he was going to either have to ignore or act on. Though, Jackson was pretty sure he could no longer just ignore it.

* * *

**_So, I'm not exactly sure what I think of this chapter, but there ya_****_go._**


	7. Chapter Six -

"So, then you take x from both sides and you get...?" urged Stiles across the table from Jackson at their usual spot in the library. There were only a few days before finals and then winter break. Jackson was supposed to be going to some resort in the mountains with his parents, but he was not sure if he wanted to.

"What are you doing winter break?" Jackson asked suddenly instead of answering Stiles' question.

The other teen looked confused for a moment before he answered. "Nothing, really. Derek is attending some convention thing in New York, so the pack's not doing anything; and, Dad's going to be working. Why?"

"You should come on vacation with me, then," Jackson stated, his voice sounding less nervous than he felt. He had never asked anyone to come up to the resort with him before, not even Lydia or Danny.

Stiles' eyes widened a little and he actually dropped his pen in surprise before he fumbled to pick it back up. "Oh, uhm," he said before he wet his lips, brow furrowing a little. "Yeah, okay. I'd, uhm... I'd like that." Stiles laughed softly with a smile, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it.

Things were still odd between him and Jackson. They would talk at school, and go out on Friday nights to see a movie or get something to eat. They never held hands or showed any public displays of affection, but they had kissed once, when Jackson had brought Stiles home after one movie. They weren't officially anything, but their friends seemed to be waiting with baited breath for the two of them to finally settle things.

"I don't really have anything for cold weather," Stiles stated after a moment of thought. He owned jeans, a couple long sleeved shirts, and some hoodies; but, it never got cold enough for Stiles to keep actual winter items, and he did not own a coat.

"We'll take care of it," replied Jackson with a nod. "Just bring whatever."

"Yeah, alright." With matching smiles, the two of them then went back to studying, though neither one could stay focused for too long and they ended up leaving to grab some pizza not much later.

"How'd you do?" Stiles asked Jackson with a smile as he came up to the lacrosse player's locker in the hall where Jackson was throwing away all the papers he would not need the next semester.

Jackson dropped the stack of papers in his hand into the trashcan that was left in the middle of the hallway for students to do just that. "One A, one C, and the rest are B's," Jackson answered with a smile.

A smile spread across Stiles' face and he laughed before he hugged Jackson and said, "See, I told you that you could do it."

Stiles seemed to realize what he was doing, then, and he quickly let go, stepping back as he apologized. "No," replied Jackson with a shake of his head. "I don't... I don't mind."

"Yeah? Cool. Uh, yeah." Stiles smiled sheepishly before laughing softly once again. "I should, uh, go. Gotta finish packing." More like he needed to _start_ packing. He had asked his dad for permission to go, which he had been reluctantly given; but, he had made no motion to actually start packing anything yet. "So, I'll... see you in a few?"

Once Jackson nodded and stated when exactly he would be over to pick him up, Stiles waved and left to go find Scott so that they could leave. They talked about their test grades the entire way to the Stilinski house, and Scott managed to wait until they were in Stiles' room to say, "Keep your phone charged. If you ever want out of there, call. Any time. We'll come get you."

Stiles laughed, rolling his eyes fondly as he grabbed an empty duffel-bag out of his closet. "You sound like my dad," he stated, remember his conversation with the man when he had asked for permission to go. "Thanks, man, but I think I'll be fine."

"I know, it's just... it's _Jackson_." Scott frowned a little as he sat down on Stiles' desk chair while his best friend was shoving some clothes into the bag.

"Yeah, and _Jackson_ is the one who punched a werewolf in the face to try to protect me." Stiles shot his friend a pointed look, earning a sheepish grin in response. "He's not always nice, and we all know that; but, I dunno. There's more to him than that. I'm _really_ starting to like him Scott."

Scott let out a heavy breath, but he smiled at his best friend. "As long as he doesn't hurt you, we're good."

Stiles smiled in response and tossed a pair of socks at Scott, missing by a good few feet. "Now, be a good slave and go get me some soda."

"Yes, master," replied Scott, rolling his eyes as he went downstairs to grab a soda for each of them.

The two of them continued talking as Stiles packed (or rather, he shoved clothes into his bag, followed by toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo, and all that good stuff), and then went downstairs to play video games and eat junk food until Jackson got there. Once he did, Scott said his good-byes and left to head over to Allison's face, squeezing Stiles' shoulder lightly with one hand as he went out the door. Stiles shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets with a smile at Jackson as he said, "Ready to go, then?"

"Yeah. Where's your bag?" replied Jackson.

"Oh, right." Stiles picked the bag up off the ground next to the door, only to have Jackson take it from him wordlessly. He smiled and followed Jackson outside, locking the house up behind him. "Thanks."

Jackson put the bag in the backseat next to his own, and the two coats that were there; and, they both got in the car so that Jackson could start the drive. His parents were already up there, he explained to Stiles as he drove. They talked about anything and everything that came to mind, speaking over the quiet music playing on the radio. They were almost to the cabin when Jackson asked, "If you've been studying magic, why didn't you use it when we were in that place?"

Stiles worried at his lower lip, fiddling with one of his hoodie strings as he looked over at Jackson, trying to figure out the best way to explain things. "Well, firstly, I only know a few little things. Like, I can make healing teas or protective circles with mountain ash. I can do a few things with assistance of runes that are more self-defense related like throwing stones or something. But, uh, I don't want to give myself access to too much knowledge," he stated, shaking his head a little as he leaned back against the door so that he could watch Jackson as he talked. "It's addictive, _very_ addictive. People die because they use too much, because they start craving more power and consume too much. It's... it's very dangerous and there's a fine line between what is safe, and what will be too much. I don't want to lose myself." Stiles shook his head a little, crossing his arms over his stomach. He had heard enough stories of magic consuming the user, seen videos and pictures. He did not want to be like that. "It's easier if the user has an anchor, something or someone to hold them back; someone important or a totem. Even then, a person can become lost."

Jackson nodded a little as he let the information sink in. He could easily see why Stiles would not want to learn too much. Stiles was one of those people who consumed knowledge of things, even unneeded information. It would be difficult to not use to the point of getting lost if he _knew_ what to do. Jackson did not like that thought. He glanced over at Stiles for a moment before focusing on the road once again. "I doubt your... pack would let that happen to you." Jackson pulled a slight face at the word _pack_, finding it odd to say, and Stiles laughed softly at him, nodding a little.

"They'd do what they could to stop it, yeah."

Still, it was not something Stiles wanted to mess with too much. Dabbling was fine, as long as he kept it light. The draw of doing more was already there; but, Stiles would not do it, not unless he had to. Their conversation strayed away from the supernatural then, and only lasted a couple minutes more until they were parked outside the two-story, multi-room cabin. It was very nice, but judging by all the snow outside, it was going to be freezing the moment they stepped out of the car. Jackson's parents' car was not there, and he mentioned that they were probably in town at the store as he reached into the back seat to grab one of the two coats to hand to Stiles. "Here, put this on," he instructed as he grabbed the second coat to put on himself.

Stiles gave a small salute before he slipped on the slightly too big coat. It was too warm for it there in the car, but he was more worried about how cold it was going to be outside. They both got out, then, and Stiles helped Jackson with the few bags they had, making it into the warm cabin in one trip. There was a note sitting on the table there in the entrance, confirming Jackson's earlier statement about them having gone shopping. "Coats go into the closet here," Jackson explained as he tugged off his own and hung it on one of the many open hangers before moving aside to let Stiles do the same. "Snow-covered shoes go here until they dry." Jackson slipped off his own shoes and set them on the mat next to the closet. "Mom'll have a conniption if water gets tracked past the hall."

"I don't blame her," replied Stiles with a soft laugh as he took off his soaked-through Converse. "S'gotta be rough on the wood flooring."

"Yeah, there's a water mark stained into the floor by the kitchen. It's hidden under a table, now; but, s'still there from when I was young." Jackson laughed a little and Stiles smiled softly, gently squeezing the lacrosse star's arm. "C'mon, I'll show you to the guest room."

Stiles nodded and grabbed his bag once again, starting to follow Jackson over to the staircase. He smiled when Jackson took his hand without prompting, their fingers lacing together as they made their way up the stairs and down the hall to the right once they were on the landing. It did not feel as awkward as Stiles thought it should have. In fact, he just felt... well, _good_ about being there. The cold kind of made his knee hurt; but, he had medication with him, just in case. He might even make some tea to help with it. As long as he did not start limping from it hurting so bad, Stiles would not bring it up. "Wow," Stiles mumbled as they passed one of the large, picture windows that overlooked the mountains and the rest of the resort. "S'pretty up here. Don't think I could handle all the snow for more than a few weeks though."

"It's a nice change from home, though," replied Jackson with a slight nod, only letting go of Stiles' hand once they got to the guest room that the vents had been turned on in. The few other guest rooms were not being heated, as it was a waste of money to heat rooms that would not be in use. "Here. This is the room you can use. S'got its own bathroom."

Stiles walked over to the bed to drop the bag in his hand on it before saying, "Hey, where's the kitchen at? I'd really like to make this tea, 'cause it sounds really good and warm and yeah..."

"C'mon, s'back downstairs." Jackson nodded and waited for Stiles to grab the stuff for the tea out of his bag before leading the other teen down to the kitchen, stopping by his own room (which was right next to Stiles') to leave his own bag there.

They then went to the kitchen and Stiles started to make the tea. "It's one for relaxation and health," Stiles explained as he mixed the two types of leaves into the tea ball to go into the kettle. He warned Jackson before hand that he would be channeling some magic as he made the tea, which would amplify the healing properties and help keep his knee injury from flaring up.

Jackson was across the island in the middle of the kitchen from Stiles, sitting on one of the stools while Stiles used the stove top on his side of the island to make the tea. Stiles' eyes flashed gold for a moment before Jackson watched them turn entirely black and his brow furrowed. "Does that always happen?" he asked.

"Hmm? What are you talking about?" Stiles was not exactly sure what Jackson was meaning, never realizing when his eyes did that anymore.

"Your eyes are black."

"Oh! Right, yeah." He nodded a little. "Only if I'm using a constant stream of magic, though. If it's just a small burst, they'll change color for only a moment; sometimes if I get too worked up emotionally one way or another." Stiles reached up to run a hand through his hair absentmindedly, turning up the heat on the stove's burner a little more. "Scott says it's creepy."

Jackson shrugged a little as he got up to go around the island to where Stiles was. "I don't think it's creepy," he stated. "Does it effect your sight."

"I see better, especially in the dark. Which kinda hurts my eyes 'cause I've got my contacts in." Stiles stopped fidgeting as Jackson reached up to rest a hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing against the skin just beneath his eye. "What're you doing?"

He shook his head a little in response, smiling a little as he watched Stiles eyes fade from the solid black with a faint flash of gold back to their original color. "Just looking."

Stiles' face flushed a little and he laughed softly before leaning in to gently press his lips against Jackson's. He almost expected the other boy to pull away, but Jackson simply moved his hand to rest on the back of Stiles' neck, deepening the kiss a little. No matter what may happen between him and Jackson, Stiles decided he could really very easily get used to kissing him. Stiles slowly pulled away when the tea kettle started to whistle loudly, signaling that it was done. "Tea's finished," he mumbled, letting go of the front of Jackson's shirt as he just then realized that he had a hold of it in the first place. Stiles cleared his throat and stepped back a little more. "Where's the cups?"

"Oh, uh, right. Here," replied Jackson before going over to the cabinet that the coffee mugs were in. He grabbed one for Stiles and handed it to the teen, who then poured himself some.

"D'you want any? It's sweet already; won't really have any effects on you. Might just make you feel like you're in a really, really good mood." Stiles nodded a little with a smile over the edge of his cup before blowing on the hot drink to take a sip of it.

"What effects will it have on you?"

Stiles hummed a little, leaning against the island as he turned off the burner. "It'll help lessen the pain in my knee," he said, deciding he may as well just be honest. "S'the cold, making it hurt a bit."

Jackson frowned a little but nodded slightly as he said, "Yeah, sure. I'll try some."

"Here. Try some of mine first instead of dirtying a cup."

Jackson tried a little of the tea and found that he actually liked it; so, they got him a cup of it as well before going into the living room to sit on the couch and watch some television. Stiles rested his back against the arm of the couch he was closest to and stretched his legs out so that they were across Jackson's lap as they watched some stupid comedy movie. He smiled a little to himself as Jackson absentmindedly ran his thumb over the knee that was bothering him. It slowly dulled with the that he drank, and he soon found himself feeling completely at ease and unable to keep from smiling. All the tension that Jackson held could be seen easing from his shoulders as well.

Stiles never believed before that there would ever be a time that he would actually want Jackson's company, as awkward as said company may be. Yet, as he sat there in the warmth of the living room, listening to the movie playing and the crackling of the fireplace off to the side, tossing in comments here or there about the movie, Stiles found that there were not many places else that he would rather be. The only thing that would make it better would have been if his dad and Scott could have been there. Still, Stiles had a feeling that it was going to be a great vacation. His dad was just glad he was getting an opportunity to get away from the supernatural epicenter that was Beacon Hills, if only for a few weeks.

* * *

Once Jackson's parents got to the cabin, the four of them went back to the kitchen where they talked and made dinner. Maria, Jackson's mother, talked to Stiles more than his dad did, finding out different foods that Stiles liked and about holiday traditions that his family had. There were not that many. Decorating the tree was the biggest part, but beyond that, the only traditions they had died out when his mom passed. Stiles did not mention that, however, as he did not want to bring any negative emotions to the place that was feeling so cheerful and light.

He went to bed with a smile on his face for the first time in a long time; and, he was sure he would end up sleeping through the night without an issue. However, that ended up not being the case; and, Stiles woke up in a cold sweat at about three in the morning. He frowned as he panted softly, trying to catch his breath with his gaze up on the ceiling. Stiles could not remember what his dream had been about, but it made his side hurt and he shuddered a little. There was a lingering feeling of dread, that something else was going to happen. Hyper-vigilance; he had been told about it before. However, that time, it felt different. Stiles noted that information as he walked over to the window in his room to look out over the miles of snow-covered ground around the building that glistened a bit in the light of the nearly-full moon.

Stiles let out a slightly shaky breath and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window, which made him inhale sharply through his nose as his eyes fell shut. "There's nothing there, Stiles," he mumbled to himself. "There's nothing there. Go back to sleep and stop this." When Stiles opened his eyes again, he took a practically stumbling step back away from the window when he saw a shape in the dotted shadows beneath the trees in the yard. The shape had _red eyes_.

He immediately rushed out of his own room to the one next door, knocking on the door before going in. Jackson was asleep, sprawled out on his bed with the blanket draped haphazardly around his middle, most of it having been kicked off on to the floor. "Jackson," Stiles said softly as he walked over to the bed, placing a hand on the other teen's shoulder to shake him awake.

Jackson jerked awake immediately at the touch of Stiles' cold hands, which he had not realized had grown cold from placing them on the window. "Stiles?" questioned Jackson groggily, reaching up to rub his eyes with the heel of his hands. "What is it?"

"There's something outside." Stiles spoke very quietly, wanting to avoid being overheard if what he had seen was really what he had thought. "Come here."

Stiles then led Jackson over to the window to point out the red eyes in the shadows, but Jackson's brow furrowed as he said he did not see anything. Stiles frowned a little, checking for himself to see that the eyes were no longer there. They both saw the dark tracks in the snow, however; and Stiles looked from them to Jackson as the other teen rested a hand on his hip, squeezing lightly. "S'probably _just_ a wolf, Stiles," Jackson stated softly. "They have those up here."

"Yeah, you're right," replied Stiles with a soft sigh, nodding as he idly wet his lips. "I'm sorry for waking you. It just... freaked me out, y'know. I... yeah. Sorry."

"Don't." Jackson shook his head a little and gently squeezed Stiles' hip once more before nodding to the bed. "C'mon. Lay with me."

Stiles' eyes widened a little at the suggestion and he looked from Jackson to the bed and back again before nodding a little. He followed Jackson's lead over to the bed and the two of them lay down before Jackson grabbed the blanket to pull up over them both. Stiles tensed only a little when Jackson's arm wrapped around his waist, relaxing when the other boy softly asked, "S'this okay?"

"Yeah," replied Stiles with a faint smile, placing his hand on top of Jackson's before linking their fingers together like that. "Could get used to this."

"Yeah?"

Stiles nodded with a faint smile, gently squeezing Jackson's hand. "Yeah."

That was how the two of them fell asleep that first night, the night after, and the night after; the thought of werewolves fading from both of their minds as they fell into the preparations for Christmas. There were tense moments, and Maria commented on how the two of them argued a lot; but, they worked well together and while they did not always see eye-to-eye, there was respect between them; and, that in itself was something that meant a lot. Maybe, Stiles thought as he snuggled into Jackson's side, blowing on the hot chocolate in his hands while the other teen's dad put in some silly holiday movie, maybe it would be a great Christmas after all.


	8. Chapter Seven -

**Sorry that it has taken so long to update this. Life has gotten in the way of writing time. I hope you enjoy this installment of the story. This is the final chapter; but, there will be a sequel, as this story has spiraled out of control from its original intention and took on a life of its own. XD**

Stiles slowly woke up on Christmas Eve and the first thing he noticed that the birds were being annoyingly loud outside. What did they have to be so cheerful for that early in the morning? Then, Stiles realized that he was not alone on the bed. He had a brief moment of panic before he remembered that it was Jackson. Jackson was laying behind him, and it was Jackson's arm that was draped over his waist as it had been every morning since the night of that dream. A faint smile tugged on his lips as he turned to hide his face in his pillow. He had very easily gotten used to waking up having Jackson there. After a few minutes of Stiles absentmindedly brushing his fingers along Jackson's arm, Stiles smiled when the other teen's arm tightened around his middle slightly.

Jackson mumbled out something that sounded much like, "Good morning," as he pressed his face against the top of Stiles' shoulder.

"Boys, breakfast!" Maria called up the stairs, effectively breaking through the relative quite of the morning to that point.

As they both got up, Jackson studied Stiles a little before he asked, "Any more bad dreams?" It had been something that Jackson had asked every morning, something that Stiles should have found annoying, but he did not. It was nice to know that Jackson actually _cared_ enough to ask.

"Nope," replied Stiles as he flashed a grin in Jackson's direction. He walked over to his bag, which had made its way to Jackson's room after the two of them had fallen into habit of Stiles sleeping in there. "I may just have to keep you if having you there is all it takes."

Jackson rolled his eyes, but smirked as he got up out off the bed. "I'll meet you downstairs in a few," he said as he grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom to shower since he had not had one the night before like Stiles had, pressing a kiss to Stiles' shoulder as he passed.

The younger teen smiled slightly at the action and nodded a little, waiting until Jackson was actually in the other room before he changed. Then, Stiles made his way downstairs to the kitchen. By the time Jackson got downstairs, Stiles was sitting on one of the tall stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen, talking to his mother about school. She seemed to be very pleased by whatever it was that Stiles was sharing. "Good morning, sweet," Maria said when she spotted her son, setting a plate down at the empty spot next to Stiles for him. "Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm..." replied Jackson with a small smile as he sat down, ignoring his mother's responding comment of how Jackson did not talk much whenever he first woke up.

"So I noticed," Stiles stated, smiling as he lightly knocked his knee against Jackson's.

"What're your plans for today?" Maria asked as she brushed her hair out of her eyes before sitting down next to her husband on the other side of the island so that she could eat, as well.

"Figured I'd take Stiles into town so he can get _actual_ winter clothes instead of stealing mine every time we leave the house," Jackson answered, chuckling as Stiles poked his tongue out in response while absentmindedly twisting back and forth in his seat.

About an hour after finishing breakfast, Stiles found himself in the car with Jackson once again. There was soft music playing over the radio, some kind of Christmas song that neither one of the teens cared anything about. They did not talk, but the silence was a companionable one, not awkward in the slightest. The closer they got to town, however, the antsier that Stiles grew. He bounced his knee repeatedly until Jackson reached over to gently squeeze it, leaving his hand there until he needed to switch gears only to put it back again. Stiles relaxed a bit under the touch, but the feeling that had him antsy in the first place only grew worse the closer to the town they got. "Something's wrong," Stiles mumbled, though Jackson heard it, and the elder teen glanced over at Stiles with a faint frown. "Jackson!"

The elder teen quickly focused ahead of them again, just in time to see a big _something _dart across the road, causing him to slam on the breaks. The car started to skid and Jackson lost traction, but it only lasted for a few moments as the car came to a complete stop, nearly hitting a parked car outside of one of the stores. "What the _fuck_ was that?" Jackson asked as he unbuckled and climbed out of the car, looking over in the direction the thing had disappeared to.

"I don't know," replied Stiles as he shakily got out of the car as well, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets as he looked around.

The wind was eerily still, and for a town that was usually bustling with winter tourist activity, there was no movement. Stiles pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and frowned when he saw that he had no service. Stiles gestured to the diner in front of him and said, "I'm going to go use the phone."

Jackson nodded, watching over in the direction the thing had gone before looking to Stiles. "Yeah, I'll be right there," he said before gesturing to the building across the street. "I'm gonna ask George somethin' real fast."

Stiles was unsure about the idea of splitting up, but after worrying at his lip for a moment, he nodded and went up the stairs to the deck, slipping on ice only once on his way to the door. He laughed softly when he managed not to fall, and reached up to brush snow out of his hair as he stepped inside, the bell above the door sounding once as it opened and again as it fell shut behind him. "Hello?" Stiles said, brow furrowing a little as he looked around the room. There was not a single person there. That was not normal, was it? "Hello?" His voice raised in volume just a little, but at the echoing silence, Stiles' uneasy feeling only grew worse. Taking in a sharp breath, Stiles took a slightly stumbling step back toward the door, reaching for the handle.

His eyes widened and he froze in place for a moment when he realized that the handle was warm, and _wet_. Stiles took a deep breath before he turned around, lifting it to find it stained with blood. There was blood on the handle and all over the bottom of the door. Mixed in with the bloody hand print was what looked like claw marks. Stiles' heart jumped when he heard a terrible sounding roar from outside. "Jackson!" he called as he rushed outside, stumbling off the stairs and onto the snowy ground. He paled instantly when he saw the blood on the ground. He swallowed thickly and followed the short trail of it to where Jackson was laying in the snow, an odd set of tracks leading away from him. "No, no, no." Stiles repeated the word under his breath as he rushed over to the other teen's side, dropping down onto his knees in the snow next to the elder boy.

Stiles laughed a little when Jackson said something that sounded like an attempt at his name. "Shush. You're fine," Stiles stated, using his hand and the front of Jackson's jacket to press on the wound on his chest from claws that was still bleeding. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The last thing Jackson saw before he lost consciousness was Stiles' eyes flashing gold for only a moment.

It was cold when he woke up, very cold; but, he was no longer in the snow. He was on a bed, a very stiff and uncomfortable one at that. The air smelled of cleaning products and sterilization. A hospital; he was in a hospital. Jackson groaned as he shifted on the bed, slowly opening his eyes, wincing as the lights in the room made his head hurt a little. "Good, you're awake," he heard from somewhere near the door and looked over to see Melissa McCall walking in with a clipboard. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a bus," complained Jackson as he slowly sat up with a little help from Melissa. "Where's Stiles? What happened?"

"We were hoping you could us," Melissa answered with a slight frown. "Stiles found you out in the snow, already attacked and alone."

"Where is he? Is he okay?"

Melissa chuckled and gently pushed on Jackson's shoulder to get him to sit back a little more when he'd sat up straighter as he asked about Stiles. "He's just fine, Jackson. Relax, please." Melissa smiled in a motherly fashion when Jackson sighed but settled back into his bed. "Stiles is sleeping at Derek's place while his dad's at work. We finally got him out of here about an hour ago. He didn't want to leave you here alone. I'll have Derek tell him you're up whenever he wakes, okay?"

Jackson nodded a little and closed his eyes with a sigh. Melissa left the room only long enough to make the call to Derek before returning to the room with a smile. "Alright, Jackson, let's check out those injuries, yeah?" she said with a nod as she walked over to the bed, tying her curly hair back with an elastic band.

"How bad are they?" questioned Jackson as he let her move down the top of the hospital gown so that she could see his chest without exposing him any.

"Could have been much worse. You're lucky. Nothing vital was hit. As she spoke, she carefully started to peel back the bandaging on his chest. A glance down at the reddened area showed Jackson that there were a few, long, jagged, and parallel lines running down his chest. They looked like claw marks, and given what he had recently learned, he figured that's what they were. "Do you remember who did this?"

Jackson shook his head with a furrowed brow, wetting his lips as he tried to think back to what happened. "I remember that it was oddly still, and that there weren't people there like usual. I heard footsteps, and then everything hurt."

Melissa nodded and smiled as she carefully returned the bandaging, pressing on the white medical tape to keep the gauze in place. "That seems to be healing fine. Just make sure you keep the area clean and don't aggravate it or anything and it should heal right up quickly. I can't promise there won't be scars."

The teen shifted uncomfortably in his spot and nodded a little, glancing over toward the windows. He felt restless for some reason, like there was somewhere else he needed to be. Jackson was not sure where that was, though, or he would have been up out of that bed and going there. He was drawn out of his thoughts by a sharp intake of breath from his side where Melissa was checking the injury under the bandaging on his shoulder. "What?" questioned Jackson, his head snapping to the side to look at her.

Melissa took a slow step away from Jackson, her hand immediately going to the phone in her pocket. "I should call Derek," was all she said before she walked out of the room to do just that.

Jackson's brow furrowed and he looked to his shoulder to try to see what it was that she had seen to freak her out, but he did not see anything. It took a few moments before he realized. He did not see _anything_ but slightly reddened skin where there should have been a bad wound if the bandaging and blood on it were anything to go by. Jackson paled a little as that thought slowly started to sink in. What did that _mean_?

Melissa did not return to the room, and Jackson wanted to go see where she had disappeared to. At the same time, however, he could not bring himself to move. Not even an hour passed before he could hear rushed footsteps coming from down the hall and he sat up a little straighter in bed just before Stiles came into the room, followed closely by Derek and Scott. Stiles looked paler than he should have been, something that made the frown on Jackson's face deepen just a little; but, the younger teen seemed relieved in the fact that Jackson was awake anyway. "Can someone tell me what is going on?" Jackson snapped toward Derek and Scott, figuring they had more answers for him than Stiles did anyway.

"You were bitten," Hale offered gruffly, and Jackson's brow rose in silent urging for him to continue with the information. "It wasn't healing so we thought... we _hoped_ it was just a rogue omega."

"My mom says it healed, though," said Scott, in a more confused and worried tone of voice than the one that Derek had. Jackson rolled his eyes at the obvious statement and Scott crossed his arms over his chest. "That means that it _wasn't_ an omega, Whittemore."

Stiles remained quiet as he stood off to the side, wringing his hands together in front of him as he kept his eyes trained on a spot on the floor. Jackson did not even need to speak to him to know that the younger teen was feeling guilty for what had happened, as if he could have changed something if they had not have split up. "The full moon's tomorrow," Derek stated with a glance toward the windows after a few tense moments of silence had passed. "We have to make sure you're out of here before then."

"Then what? I turn into some freak like the rest of you?" Jackson asked with a scowl, not missing the way that Stiles flinched at his words. Jackson almost wanted to take them back. Almost.

"Jackson..." Stiles said softly, wetting his lips as he finally stilled his hands. "They're just trying to help."

Jackson let out a heavy breath through his nose as his eyes darted over to where Stiles was, and the younger teen could have sworn that his eyes flashed unnaturally blue there for a second. Stiles glanced over at Derek, the only other werewolf he had ever known to have blue eyes, before focusing on Jackson again. "Look, I get that this whole thing sucks, dude," Scott said, drawing Jackson's attention once again, "but don't hate on us. We're gonna do what we can to make this an easy transition. It wasn't for me."

"Because you didn't _listen_ to me," Stiles insisted with a huff as he crossed his arms over his chest, earning a sheepish smile from Scott.

"I'm gonna go let Isaac and the others know what's going on," Derek said with a nod before looking toward Jackson. "Don't do anything stupid."

Without another word, Derek left once again and Jackson rolled his eyes. "Uhm, I'm gonna go talk to mom," Scott said, smiling at Stiles with a wave to Jackson before he left the room.

Stiles stood where he was as another few moments of silence passed between him and Jackson before he finally walked over to the bed. "Jackson, I'm... I'm sorry," Stiles said softly, worrying at his lower lip for a moment. "I shouldn't have left you."

"I swear, if you blame yourself for some asshole attacking me, I will-" Jackson started to say, breaking off when Stiles laughed with a shake of his head and a slight smile.

"I tried to fix it...," Stiles stated, gesturing toward Jackson's chest and shoulder with one hand. "I, uhm... I couldn't, though. I thought..."

"Stiles, I'm fine."

Jackson nodded and reached out to gently grab Stiles' wrist, tugging him closer to the bed. Stiles sat down next to the elder teen, facing him. "You weren't, though. You stopped _breathing_ and they had to... It was bad, okay; and, this, this whole thing is huge. I mean, _nothing_ is going to be the same anymore."

"Yeah, I gathered that." Jackson sighed and reached up with the hand that was not still curled around Stiles' wrist to run through his hair a few times. "I don't want this."

"I know, I'm sorry." Stiles worried at his lower lip, but he stopped when Jackson let go of his wrist to link their fingers together. "Derek and Scott, they're gonna help. I mean, none of this is easy, and the one who bit you had to have had a reason. You're going to be tied to him like Scott was to Peter, and..."

Stiles' words were cut off when Jackson leaned forward to silence him with a kiss, pulling away with a slight smirk at the fact that it worked. "It could be the pain medication, but 'm not as freaked out by this as I should be," Jackson stated. "I know I don't want to deal with this, and I want it to be some stupid dream; but, 'm oddly calm."

"Yeah, I'd say that's the meds," replied Stiles with a laugh. The two of them sat there in silence for awhile, Stiles moving to actually sit next to Jackson on the bed next to the other teen, leaning against him slightly. "Whatever is going on, it's big. It's huge, and we've no idea what it is. This is just the beginning."

Stiles nodded a little as he rested his head on Jackson's shoulder, glancing out at the slightly snowy world outside the window toward the nearly-full moon that shone between the clouds that passed overhead. Jackson's arm wrapped around his waist to pull him closer and he pressed a barely-there kiss to the top of Stiles' head, silently agreeing with the other teen's words. Neither one said anything else as they looked out the window of the hospital room. Nothing past that point was going to be easy, and neither boy was willing to admit that he was scared. There was nothing they could do but prepare themselves for whatever was to happen next.


End file.
